


Speak Your Mind (I'll Write Your Name Among The Stars)

by orphan_account



Series: I Will Be Here, Quietly, Always [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, F/F, and octavia is kind of enamoured by her tough girlfriend reciting poetry to her, monroe loves poetry apparently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 01:25:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3509981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Monroe discovers a book of poetry, and falls in love with the words and the writing. Undated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speak Your Mind (I'll Write Your Name Among The Stars)

Monroe sits on the bench of the table, tracing her finger over words on an old and dusty page. The spine was loosening, and the pages had been... abused, for a lack of a better word. She breathes in the musty smell, still lingering from when she picked it up.  
Weeks ago on an expedition trip, Bellamy had come across an abandoned building filled with books. While Bellamy was distracted, Monroe had snuck a thin book into her jacket, only to discover later that it was filled with poems from the old world.  
It had works by hundreds of writers, of which She knew none. Edgar Allen Poe. Walt Whitman. William Wordsworth. W. B. Yeats.  
The names meant nothing to her, but the words in these poems fascinated her. Languid, and then sharp. Gentle, and then harsh. A gliding ascension to the peak of the world, only to come crashing down a roaring waterfall, and glide down the rest of the way through a river to sit at the foot of the mountain, still, tranquil, silent.  
At the back of the book was a guide. A guide to reading and memorizing poetry. Monroe does not see the point in memorizing poetry. Surely, the people of the old world had more entertaining things to do in their time? And yet, the soaring crescendo of the smooth phrases and the sentences punctuated by accents and drawn out words...  
Monroe finds herself memorizing the poems she finds in her book when she's alone in her tent, or when everyone is deep in conversation. She really should have known, she thinks, that someone would have found out eventually.  
Octavia walks into their tent late one night, and catches a glimpse of Monroe reading by the candlelight at the table. Quietly, she sits down beside the redhead.  
"Hey." She says breathily.  
Monroe startles, flipping the book closed and pushing it to the edge of the wooden table.  
"Hey." She replies, taking Octavia's hand and stroking it lightly, "how was the wall shift?"  
If Octavia notices anything off, She doesn't mention it.  
"Quiet as always. We should get Lexa to put us on the same shift. We could watch the stars together." Octavia mutters, resting her chin on Monroe's shoulder. "What are you reading?"  
Monroe flushes red, fidgeting under the table.  
Concerned, Octavia frowns.  
"Babe, you know you don't need to tell me if you don't want to, right? We don't have to talk about this."  
"No, no..." Monroe sighs, "I just don't know how you'll react."  
Octavia laughs, and reaches her hands under the table to still Monroe's nervous fidgeting.  
"Monroe, I'll love you regardless of anything, alright? You have nothing to fear from me."  
Monroe smiles and leans in to kiss Octavia briefly.  
"Okay. No making fun of me. So one time when we were on expedition, we found an abandoned building filled with books. Bellamy wanted to move on quickly since there wasn't anything of apparent value there, but I managed to take a book off the shelves and brought it back."  
Monroe takes the book from the edge of the table and opens it, running her fingers across the words and down the spine.  
"I haven't heard of any of these writers, I got locked up before we reached the classical poetry unit, but I got far enough in school to know how to read and... dissect? Yeah. How to dissect poetry to find the hidden meanings."  
Octavia listens, rapt by her girlfriend's words and the smile creeping onto her face.  
"So what do you with the poems you read?"  
Monroe feels heat creep up her cheeks, and her fingers fiddle with Octavia's. "I memorize them."  
There's a short pause. "Oh?" Octavia asks, curious.  
Monroe thumbs her way to the back of the book, and shows Octavia a page of words marked by lines, dashes, and dots.  
"People of the old world used to memorize poems, and had certain rules and methods of reciting them. There are some that follow this pattern they called "iambic pentameter", and others that follow "dactylic pentameter", and some words were said faster or slower, of louder or softer than others to create atmosphere or emphasis. There were competitions..."  
Octavia stares deep into the eyes of her girlfriend, watching her eyes light up when she spoke about poetry. Sure, What she was talking about was... interesting... but Monroe's eyes? She could lose herself in Monroe's green eyes for all of eternity, and she would have no qualms with it.  
"Octavia? Octavia... Earth to Octavia?"  
Monroe's voice snaps her out of her haze, and she panics for a moment, trying to recollect what Monroe was talking about.  
"Octavia, did you get anything I just said?" Monroe asks, smiling a bit.  
Octavia, still panicking, blurted "You are so, so beautiful."  
Monroe bursts out laughing at that, head thrown back, shoulders shaking in mirth. "And it's also very late, my warrior. Let's get to bed."  
Monroe closes the book and snuffs out the light, before laying in bed, waiting for Octavia to join her.  
The brunette unclasps her sword, and shrugs her jacket off, pulling her pants off slowly. She smiles when she hears a groan from the bed, and pads over to lay on the furs.  
"You better finish what you started in the morning, princess." Monroe says, laying a kiss on Octavia's forehead.  
"Mmh. And you better recite some of that poetry to me, alright?"  
Monroe wraps her arms around the warm body beside her and snuggles in tight, pulling furs over the two of them. "Goodnight, Octavia. I love you."

\--

Octavia is awake before Monroe is, and drops a kiss on Monroe’s hand before rolling out of bed quietly and searching for her discarded clothes. Silently, she picks up her shoulder-guard and slides it over her arm, settling the tough material snugly and buckling it in with a click.  
On the bed, Monroe shifts, grunting in confusion when she realizes that the warm body she had been curled up against all of last night had disappeared.  
Smiling, Octavia crawls onto the bed, straddling Monroe’s hips and dropping kisses all over her girlfriend’s face.  
“Good morning babe!” She says, tugging Monroe’s hands away from her eyes to catch a glimpse of her bright green eyes. The breaking rays of sun dance in her eyes as they filter through the tent skin. Octavia sighs slightly. “You’re drop dead gorgeous, you know that?”  
Monroe smiles, bucking her hips up slightly as she blinks away sleep. “Have I ever told you that your shoulder-guard is very, very sexy on you, and the next time we’re doing the do, you’re keeping that on?”  
Octavia laughs, lifting Monroe’s shirt just high enough to get a firm grasp on her hipbones. “Many times. We never seem to remember when you’re tearing my clothes off though.” She teases, running her thumbs up and down Monroe’s abdomen.  
Monroe shivers.  
Octavia reaches for Monroe’s hands, lifting them up and pinning them together above her head. “Maybe I’ll let you do that tonight...” She mutters, pressing a gentle kiss to Monroe’s lips, before rolling off the bed. “I’ve got morning wall shift. Will you recite a poem for me when I get back?”  
Monroe groans slightly as she gets up, pulling her thin shirt down back over her hips. “Alright. Be safe, okay? I love you.”  
Octavia smiles. “I love you too.” she says, and then walks out of the tent, her sword swinging in her grasp.

\--

Octavia returns to the tent later that night, free of warpaint, setting her sword down. Monroe is pacing back and forth in the tent, silently mouthing words that Octavia can only guess are from the poem she’s memorizing. She makes her way to the table where the poem lies open-faced, and attempts to take a peak.  
“Oh... no no, you have to wait!” Monroe exclaims, stilling Octavia’s hand, “it’ll be no fun if you already know what I’m going to say.”  
Octavia smiles sheepishly, and sits down at the table, waiting for Monroe.  
The redhead takes a minute more before clearing her throat. “I think I’m ready.”  
Octavia nods. “Whenever you're ready.”  
Monroe takes a deep breath, and exhales, closing her eyes. She stills for a moment, opens her eyes, and speaks.

“Out of the night that covers me,  
Black as the pit from pole to pole,  
I thank whatever gods may be  
For my unconquerable soul.”

Her eyes are lit, motions animated, and voice varied, rising and crashing like the surf pounding on the shores.

“In the fell clutch of circumstance  
I have not winced nor cried aloud.  
Under the bludgeonings of chance  
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears  
Looms but the Horror of the shade,  
And yet the menace of the years  
Finds and shall find me unafraid.”

Octavia smiles when she hears the words, chills going down her spine as the words strike into her heart like arrows piercing the hide of a wild boar, the flowing sentences sweet like honey on her tongue.

“It matters not how strait the gate,  
How charged with punishments the scroll,  
I am the master of my fate,”

Monroe pauses, as if to remember something, and in a very, very quiet voice, whispers,

“Ai laik Heda of keryon ai”

Octavia blinks, forgetting for a second that Monroe had spoken Trigedasleng, before snapping back to reality, a feeling of awe overtake her.  
“I am the captain of my soul.” She translates, then breaks into a smile, standing up and moving over to Monroe. “That was beautiful.”  
Monroe grins. “Really? Thanks.” She falls a little quieter. “That was my first time performing for anybody.” She says, fidgeting with her fingers.  
“And you did an amazing job.” Octavia reassures, kissing her, “I may be the captain of my soul, but you can captain my body right about now.”  
Monroe breaks into a fit of laughter. “You’re such a loser, Octavia.” She says, laying her hand on the shoulder guard, “And this is staying on this time.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't caught on yet, I love poetry. Monroe may also have a slight "thing" for armour. Good thing she's dating Octavia then, no? Disclaimer: my Trigedasleng is still in the works, and I cannot guarantee that it is accurate. The phrase is now in the askbox of our dear David J. Peterson's tumblr, and once I get confirmation, I will change it if needed. Drop a comment or a kudo if you liked it!


End file.
